by Dianna Love
Dragon Lady had it all figured out and wrapped up tight.
“Tell me about Van?” I heard the begging in my voice and didn’t really give a rat’s ass. “Is he alive?”
“Oh, yes, darling.” Dominique’s smile deepened. “He’s too useful to kill. For now.”
Truth? Or more cruelty? I bet on the later.
“Where is he then?” I prodded. “There’s no way I’m a threat to you. I’m trapped. You have all the cards.” Maybe, just maybe, she’d let something slip that I could use to find Van. And if I survived, I could do something.
“That would make things too easy for you,” she laughed. I so was going to take her down if for no other reason than to stop that laugh. “But I will give you an itsy bitsy clue. Just to show you I’m not without a heart.”
Too late for me to believe that. “Where?” I growled the single word.
“Why, in Paris. The city of love and light and soon to be darkness.” She turned to Bran. “Now I must leave, my poppets. Things to do, lives to take, a world to conquer.”
“You can run, but you can’t hide.” But Dominique wasn’t buying the threat. That’s okay, neither was I. She’d gotten away with so much over the last year, why should she be worried now? Whatever she was going to do was about to happen and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it unless I found a way to stop her.
Dominique nodded to her hired guard. The one who showed no signs of changing into his Were persona though I sensed he could if he wanted or needed to. This one had more control than pig-guy Elmer. “Tie them up.”
“No, wait.” I stepped away from Franco; tied up the man would die, but if I could remain free we stood a chance. A slim one. “What kind of threat are we here?” I glanced around, goading Dominique with my tone. “You’ve got armed guards. We’ll be in a locked room. What possible threat could we be unless—”
“Unless what?”
“You’re afraid of us.” I leveled a big, cat-eating grin in her direction. Human to predator. Some species would take the taunt as a reason to attack, but who knew with a Grimple. “Afraid of me in particular? Which I can understand since I’m—”
“Nothing.” Dominique’s tone could have frozen nose hairs. She glanced at her Rolex. “I’m late.” She eyed me, then Bran still busy with Franco. “Elmer, leave them; they aren’t worth tying up and I’ll be back shortly.”
She glanced at me, inhaled a deep breath and then blew it out, fanning a thick, dark fog.
Before I could pat myself on the back for giving us a chance Dominique’s breath hit me; like deadly swamp gas the smell came first.
Then the darkness.
CHAPTER 54
Stygian shadows surrounded me, thick, inky, cold darkness. I rocked within it, tossing, struggling against a force pressing me down. Where was I? Bran? Where was he? A scream scrambled out of my raw throat.
“Wake up, Alex,” a voice growled next to me. A violent voice.
My eye lids peeled open. I was flat on my back, with Bran looming over me. Warlock Bran, face taunt, eyes wild, his hair looking like he’d been dragging fingers through it. He shook me again, his hands gripping my shoulders so tight they bruised.
I pushed against him, rolling to my side, retching. Nothing came up, but still I gagged, until Bran’s hand appeared beside me, holding a glass of water.
The first sip gave me hope that I’d live. The second made me wonder if living was a good idea. Every muscle in my body ached as if sucked dry. I croaked, “She gone?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?” I shook my head to clear the fog in it, then wished I hadn’t. Holy mother of sinners, whatever Dominique blew, it was near-lethal.
“Hydrogen sulfide,” Bran said.
I searched for lessons from my first witch instructor. “So it was sewer gas.”
Bran’s voice deepened. “Yes. Toxic with long-term exposure, but in concentrated doses even a short term exposure can cause unconsciousness.”
Like I didn’t know that now.
“I don’t think she really wanted to kill us,” he added, “Or she’d have just shot us.”
When was he going to get a clue his cousin did not need his protection? Dollars to donuts I bet she expected her breath to kill us. But we weren’t dead. Not yet.
I rolled to my knees, shaking off Bran’s helping hand as I pulled myself to a wobbly half-standing position, my palms braced against my legs until I was sure I didn’t topple. “How much time—”
“Ten minutes. Not much more,” Bran finished, standing next to me.
Good. She hadn’t had much of a lead. I turned to Franco, his head lolling on his chest, his color pale, but he was breathing. “Looks like the bullet went clear through, with no arteries hit.”
“This is good news?” Frustration coated Bran’s every syllable.
“Yeah. An artery would mean death in minutes.”
“So now the man gets to bleed to death slowly?”
“Not if I can help it.” We weren’t arguing about Franco, but about Dom, and we both knew it.
Bran broke the impasse first. “I never meant this to go this far . . .”
That had me straightening my spine. “How far did you expect then?” My voice sounded raw and hoarse. The gas, or the anger, or both roughening it. “You’ve lied to me all along. You knew what she was and protected her.”
“She’s my cousin, Alex. The only family I have. She protected me a child and I protected her. It’s what families do.”
And just like that the light bulb went off. No wonder he and I were on opposite sides. It wasn’t because he was a warlock and I was a witch, though that didn’t help. Or he a suspect and me an investigator. No, it was because we both wanted the same thing, to protect someone we loved, to protect our blood family. But his protecting Dom put Van at risk and my finding Van put Dom at risk. No wonder there was no middle ground.
Damn, I should have seen this earlier. Too bad knowing didn’t lessen the pain of his betrayal.
Arrogance coated his words as he spoke again, “I’ve been trying to save you from Dom by getting you out of the away.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Believe what you will, Dom has not always acted this way.”
“You mean stealing, kidnapping, killing?” Yeah, I sounded bitter because I was. He’d been protecting a monster who had my brother and now that monster was loose on the world. That was pissing me off.
“Forget your cousin, for a second.” I staggered toward Franco. “Help me with him.”
“I don’t have my ability to heal.” His tone sounded as bitter as mine.
“Got that, the whole no magic thing. Help me untie him.”
“Why?”
“He’s a shifter.” I was tugging at the ropes around Franco’s hands, tied tighter than a piggin’ string in a calf roping rodeo. “The Were started to shift, which means some kinds of magic are immune to your ward. To shift is normal to those born to it, so might avoid the definition of magic.” I pointed out. “Maybe if we get Franco loose he can shift and heal himself.”
Bran didn’t ask any more questions as he hip-pushed me away and went to work on the wrist knots. He was right, I was making a mash of it. I moved to Franco’s side, noting the sweat beading his skin. We didn’t have much time.
“He’s an MI-6 agent. Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, mostly to focus on something other than the blood saturating Franco’s shirt.
“It was his secret to share, not mine.”
“Yet you told your cousin I was a witch.”
“She figured it out on her own.” Bran’s attention was one hundred percent focused on what he was doing, until he speared me a dark-eyed glance and added, “I never told her you were an agent. Nor did I tell Franco.”
So he drew the line somewhere. Bully for him.
He gave a last tug, probably not aware he was mumbling a useless release spell aloud, but the ropes parted and Franco slumped forward. I caught him as he
slid from the chair to a heap on the floor.
“Franco.” I shook him, not hard, but enough to break through to him. “You need to shift.”
“Not sa…” he whispered.
“You’re among friends,” I lied, counting myself and not so sure anymore about Bran. “You have to shift or you’ll die.”
Seconds ticked past as he looked paler and paler.
I cut a glance toward Bran. “If he dies, it will be your fault.”
“And you didn’t tell him you were an IRS agent and to share that tidbit with Dom?”
Damn and double damn. He was right. I sent Franco in to deal with a Grimple. Worse, I’d thought he was a civilian, which made him as vulnerable as anyone could be. “I screwed up.” I mumbled, holding Franco tighter.
“Both of us made unwise choices.”
Only Bran could sound like a French BBC announcer when offering a flag of truce.
I turned my attention back to Franco. “Come on, Frank, do your thing. Show me what kind of shifter you are.”
Nothing.
“How did you know he was a shifter?” Bran asked, standing over my shoulder.
“A good guess.”
“Because you have one in the family?”
“No.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Because my father and all my brothers are shifters.”
That had his brow quirking. “And you’re not?”
“I took after my mother.” And father, but no need to bring the shaman element into the mix, I was a more inept shaman than I was a witch. Unless?
“What is it?” Bran asked, as if sensing a change in me.
“You’ve blocked magic, but I might have something else.”
“What?”
“Just wait. Can you find a drum or something to drum?”
Bless his black warlock soul he didn’t hesitate. Instead he looked around, disappeared for a few seconds and returned with a thick book and a full toothpaste tube from the bathroom. “Rough, but they’ll do.”
I sat flat legged on the floor, Franco’s head resting in my lap. I smeared some blood from his wound over my fingers and drew a crude pentacle on my left palm. Then I closed my eyes. I had no idea if what I was about to do would work or not, but I did know that if I didn’t try something, Franco would surely die.
“Beat the drum in slow measured beats,” I directed Bran, otherwise trying to ignore him. He and his jagged energy messed with me on so many levels and I couldn’t afford that now.
Stilling myself, I raised my hands above Franco and murmured the first ritual words.
“Come death, advise me.”
Bran gripped my shoulder, startling me.
“Stop, I have to do this.”
“Do what exactly?”
“I’m seeking the return of Franco’s soul.”
“I’m not a fool, Alex, even though I’ve acted the part. How are you going to claim Franco’s soul?”
I closed my eyes before answering. “I’ll travel to the soulless void.”
That was the theory. I’d never done this but had heard it could be done.
Bran tightened his grip until I could feel his fingers meet bone, his voice deepened. “I won’t let you die.”
“I don’t plan to die. But I must travel to death’s side to convince Franco that his time has not yet come.”
“And if you can’t come back?”
I swallowed. Deeply. “Then I die.”
CHAPTER 55
Breathe by breath. Word by word. Beat by beat, my present world faded as my heart slowed, my breathing matching its pace.
Earth be found
Power be bound
Stall Nature’s course
Earth, dust, bone
Bind to me
Spirits Realm welcome me
Spirits Realm call me forth
The cold came first. Bone rattling, skin dimpling, breath-lanced cold. If I opened my eyes I’d expect to see frost coating me.
Instead I waited, listening to the breeze stirring around me. Like an arctic gale it started small then gained in strength. A banshee’s blood call, seeking spirits, isolating souls.
Only when the wind whipped against me did I dare open my eyes to a half-lit emptiness. The Spirits’ waiting grounds. The resting point between the newly dead, those dying, and those trapped between worlds. Spend more than a few moments here and you became one of the In-Between ones.
The clock was ticking.
But where was Franco?
The emptiness seemed a blank canvas until I looked closer, so close a headache started thrumming behind my eyeballs. What looked like fog was in fact thousands if not hundreds of thousands of churning wraiths, some almost human looking, others mere wisps.
I could hear Bran’s faint drumming, replacing my heartbeat. If he stopped, or faltered, I was gone.
How was I going to find Franco in this mess?
I stumbled to my feet, loathe to break the eerie silence, except for the wind. But the seconds ticked by and I had to do something.
“Franco. I seek the spirit of Franco.”
Damn, I didn’t think to find out his last name, or even if Franco was his real name. And Ling Mai trusted me to come into my powers. If she could only see me now.
“Franco? Come to me Franco?”
After my mother abandoned me I learned about loneliness. I felt it to my core now.
“Franco, I’m not leaving without you,” I shouted as loud as I could, stirring the spirits nearest me like wind churning smoke. “Come out, you half-pint bastard. You’ll not die on my watch.”
“Who do you seek, sister?” A dark spirit floated near me, more voice than shape. A coldness, chilling me. Ally or enemy?
“Who are you?” I didn’t have time to sweat the small stuff, but something about the voice sounded familiar.
“I served your master, witch.”
So the wraith knew of me. A scary thought. The drum echoed in my awareness.
“I’m looking for a man named Franco. Not tall.” I raised my hand to just above my head. “A recent arrival, hovering between the worlds. You’ve seen him?”
“I can find him.”
I heard a but in the voice. There was always a catch. “For a price?” I asked, wondering how far I’d go to save Franco’s life. It was because of my actions that Franco was even here; I guess my answer was clear. As far as it took.
“You are wise beyond your years,” the voice murmured, not taking the sting out of my cynicism.
“Tell me what you want?” Tick. Tock.
“A favor.”
What kind of candy-assed price was that? Talk about your open-ended sinkhole. “What kind of favor we talking here?” My Noziak skepticism was on high-alert.
“Nothing you will not be able to do,” came the response.
The guy must have been a politician in his past life, a master of saying nothing while asking for everything in return. Criminy.
“Do you agree?”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“As I said, wise beyond your years.”
I didn’t like it, but I needed to get Franco and get out of here. “I’ll owe you a favor, something that I will be able to do. Now bring Franco to me.”
“My pleasure.”
Damn if the wraith wasn’t true to his word. Within seventeen seconds, I counted every one of them, a shell-shocked Franco appeared. He was a tamped down version of his usually cocky, in-your-face self, but it was Franco. If he wasn’t so insubstantial I’d have hugged him, probably sending both of us straight to hell from the shock.
“Thank you,” I nodded to the spirit. Last thing I wanted was a pissed off spirit.
“Remember, you owe me.”
Now why did that sound like a threat? Probably because it was.
“Noziaks don’t forget our promises.”
“Till later then, sister.” The wraith dissipated, which should have made me feel better. There wasn’t time for that as I could hear the rough drum Bran w
as hitting grow fainter and fainter.
“Follow me,” I said to Franco, “and do exactly what I tell you to do.”
“Why?”
Seriously? I risk dying for this guy and he was copping an attitude. “Because if you don’t I’ll dress your corpse in a pink tutu, have it embalmed, and have it made into a freestanding light in my living room.”
I knew I got through to him when he crinkled up his nose in disgust.
“Ready?” It was now or never. “Dad, if you can hear me, please help me.” I meant every word. Slowing time and dying was one thing. Reversing the process was a whole different problem.
I started the chant, my voice a lot calmer than my thoughts.
Bound, found, and binding
Let us see the sight
Let us hear the sound
Spirit lost, now is found
Return us hence.
To our earthly realm.
Nothing happened.
CHAPTER 56
I swallowed the fear choking me and repeated the spell. The third time I knew it wasn’t working.
I glanced at Franco, seeing in the whites of his eyes the same terror racing through me. We were going to be trapped between worlds. Neither alive, nor ever dead.
What now?
Think. If reversing a seeking for someone lost summons didn’t work, what would?
My heart sped up, pounding against my chest, echoing the drum growing quieter and quieter. I wanted to call Bran. I didn’t want things to end between us like this: angry, untrusting, unresolved.
That was it. Call to Bran. A soulmate seeking a warlock spell.
I was desperate.
Closing my eyes again I inhaled slowly, framing an image of Bran behind my closed lids. His darkness, the quirk of his brows, the flash of those Celtic blue eyes, the protection he spread over those around me. Over me. My body warmed, a rush of security, of knowingness. Our relationship was complicated and screwed up, but there was something there. Something that deserved a chance. Only then did I start the chant.
Light to darkness. Spirit to earth.
Witch to warlock.
I seek thee. I summon thee.